


Best of Bedfellows

by Blissymbolics



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Riding, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissymbolics/pseuds/Blissymbolics
Summary: Finally she makes it over the crest, and all the tension in her limbs evaporates in half a second. She raises her hips to let him breathe, and he takes in an exaggerated breath, like a drowning man breaking the surface.“Shit, Marsh, you have enough fun waterboarding me?”She smiles. “Always.”
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

“Almost there,” she gasps, chasing that ball of warmth swelling right around Richie’s tongue. Her thighs are starting to ache from kneeling above his mouth for so long, the burn in her muscles making her shake. She licks her thumb and reaches under her t-shirt to pinch her nipple, the flash of pain like salt around a shot glass.

“Right there.” She cants her hips harder, bearing down against Richie’s mouth. He told her not to hold back, so she’s going to trust that if he’s truly suffocating he’ll push her off. But as of right now he doesn’t seem to be struggling, and his grip on her hips only tightens.

She leans forward, her damp hair sticking to her cheeks as sweat builds on the underside of her breasts. “Almost,” she practically begs, slowing her thrusts, trying to find the exact rhythm she needs to get there. Her eyes pinch shut as she continues playing with herself beneath her shirt. She’s so close it hurts.

“Right there,” she gasps. “Just like that.” She goes still as Richie finds the exact spot she needs. She stays there, unmoving, allowing him to finish the job. His tongue circles round and round, warm and wet. It builds until her nerves are burning. She lingers right on the edge, and groans as the pressure becomes unbearable.

“Please,” she begs. “Please, just–“

She loses her voice as the first wave hits. Her jaw falls open and a few strangled moans spill out. She rocks forward, the searing warmth rushing down to her toes. Richie’s tongue goes still, but he keeps it pressed hard against her clit as she rides out the high.

Finally she makes it over the crest, and all the tension in her frame evaporates in half a second. She raises her hips to let him breathe, and he takes in an exaggerated breath, like a drowning man breaking the surface.

“Shit, Marsh, you have enough fun waterboarding me?”

She smiles. “Always.”

She delicately climbs off his face, careful not to knee him in the nose like last time. Then she reaches down to the carpet to grab her sweatpants, deciding not to bother putting her panties back on. She slips the grey cotton up her legs, still a bit wobbly on her feet.

She and Richie started doing this about three weeks ago. It started with some playful groping, then friendly grinding. Eventually they started slipping their hands past each other’s waistbands, and this is the third time she’s ridden his face. They haven’t progressed to full nudity yet, nor have they done anything that would require a condom, and she’s not sure if they’ll ever make it that far, but this arrangement has been mutually beneficial so far to say the least.

She’s just about to go to the kitchen to rudely drink some orange juice straight from the bottle when Richie’s phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a new text.

“Who is it?” Richie asks, still lying prone on the couch. Bev leans over to check.

“It’s Eddie,” she answers while pulling the hair back from her face.

“Shit, what does he want?” Richie groans, rubbing the back of his hand across his damp mouth.

Bev picks up the phone. “He’s wondering if you want to meet him for lunch tomorrow.”

Richie groans again, then reaches out, his arm flopping over the side of the couch like a corpse in a movie. Bev smiles at the display and drops the phone in his hand.

He brings it up to his face, very close, at which point Bev realizes he’s struggling to read it without his glasses, which are still sitting on the coffee table.

“Here.” She picks them up and hands them over.

“Thanks.” He unfolds them and slides them on, then just stares at the relatively brief text, his face moving in a medley of expressions, as if he were calculating a chess move.

“What’s the story between you two anyway?” Bev asks as she flops back onto the couch, which is wide enough to comfortably fit the both of them. She lays her head on his damp chest, still enjoying the post orgasmic tingles running down her legs.

“I don’t know,” Richie sighs. “I can’t get a read on him. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to make the first move or if he’s just not interested.”

Bev places a palm on his chest and rubs it in slow circles, feeling his chest hair move beneath his shirt.

“How are things going with Myra?” she asks.

“It’s armageddon apparently. I don’t know why she can’t be a grownup about fucking anything.” He sighs, still staring at the screen. “Guess I’ll take him up on lunch again,” he says, but doesn’t make any move to type out a reply.

“Not to egg you on, but you could just ask him if he’s into you,” Bev suggests, her hand slowly migrating down his chest and stomach, stopping just below his navel.

“Yeah, I should. I guess that’d be the grown-up thing to do.” He tosses his phone down to the carpet, no reply sent. He closes his eyes as Bev starts fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants.

“I really like him,” Richie mumbles. “Always have.”

“I know.” Bev gently tugs on one of the strings, not enough to free the knot, but just enough to tease. Richie likes being teased, which is something she never expected to find out.

“I get that things are stressful for him right now, but I’d appreciate it if he gave me some sort of signal. I’m usually pretty good at picking up on shit like that.”

Bev cups his crotch over his sweats. She runs her palm down his length, squeezes, feels him twitch.

“God, if he knew how many times I’ve jerked off to him…” Richie drones, his voice breathy. Bev smiles as she feels him harden.

“What do you think about?” she asks with a cheeky smile.

Richie lets out a short laugh. “Need some material for your spank bank?”

“Always.” She leans down to plant a kiss to his shoulder, her thumb circling the head of his dick in lazy coils. Richie’s lips are slightly parted and there’s a blush building beneath his stubble, which has left some light scratches along her inner thighs. Bev likes seeing him like this. He gets so still and peaceful – a far cry from what she’s used to.

“God, I want to suck his dick so bad,” Richie says on an exhale, followed by a short laugh. “No offense, Marsh, you’ve got some grade-A equipment down there, but Jesus, I want his cock in my mouth so bad.”

Bev squeezes him, then ghosts her fingers along his length, making him shift impatiently.

“I can’t stop thinking about what he’d be like in bed. What he’d be into. I’ll do whatever the fuck he wants.”

Bev’s hips move a bit in interest, which Richie slyly catches.

“This doing it for ya’?” he asks smugly, and Bev retaliates by reaching down to grab his balls, causing him to let out an undignified squeak.

“What would you like him to do to you?” she asks while moving one leg over Richie’s own so she can press her crotch against his thigh.

Richie smiles and reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’d take his cock in my mouth slowly. Play with him for a bit, try to figure out what he likes.”

Bev presses her forehead against his shoulder as she rubs against him harder. Finally she pulls the drawstring on his sweats and reaches inside to wrap her hand around him. She can feel his chest deflate in relief as she begins moving her fist up and down his length.

“I think he’d be good at dirty talk,” Richie continues, his hips moving in time with her strokes, his thigh rubbing firmly against her crotch.

“I think he could be one of two extremes. Either he loves getting bossed around or he needs to be in control. Or maybe he switches it up. Either way, I’m down with whatever. I want to bend him over and take him hard, but I also want him to tie my hands behind my back and tease me till I cry.”

Bev pulls his dick out of his sweats so she can stroke it with greater ease. He’s rock hard and red at the tip. And for the first time in a long time, she’s not bothered by the thought of having something like it inside her.

“God, I’ve never wanted anyone as bad as I want him. No offense.”

“None taken,” she replies, bringing her hand up to lick her palm.

“I just need to tell him,” Richie groans. “I mean, not tell him that I want to suck his dick, not yet at least. I just need to get over myself.” He gasps as Bev speeds up her strokes.

“I think he’d taste really nice. God, I want him to come in my mouth.”

Bev presses against him as hard as she can, trying to get the friction she needs.

“You okay there, champ?” Richie asks with a smile before running a finger down her spine.

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I grab a condom?”

Richie’s eyebrows rise a bit in interest. His glasses are slipping down his nose from all the sweat, and she can’t help but smile at how the crooked angle makes one eye look bigger than the other.

“You sure?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah.” She leans down to press a kiss to his jaw.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he replies, sweet and breathy.

“Okay, be right back.”

She half-stands half-rolls off the couch, the movement sending a fresh whiff of sweat straight to her nose. She pulls at the front of her t-shirt to air out her chest as she walks over to Richie’s guest room, where she’s been staying for the last three months.

She picked up a box last week just in case, yet still felt the need to hide them in the very bottom of her suitcase, as if Richie would ever go through her things. She pulls open the box and tears one off, slightly nervous, but cautiously excited.

When she gets back to the living room Richie is still lying in the same position she left him: dick out and glasses skewed, but now he’s holding his phone close to his face, his brow pinched in concentration.

“You trying to figure out how to reply to Eddie?” she asks.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I should probably wait till l’m not excruciatingly horny.”

Bev laughs as she unties her sweatpants and lets them pool to the carpet.

“Just say you’ll meet him tomorrow,” she offers while climbing back onto the couch and straddling Richie’s knees.

“Yeah, guess I’ll do that for now.”

Bev watches him quickly type out a reply then toss his phone back onto the carpet. Every time he does that it gives her a mini heart attack, but he claims he’s never shattered a screen before, which Bev finds hard to believe.

Bev tears open the packet and takes the condom out. She rotates it between her fingers, trying to figure out which way it’s rolled. She’s forty and it still always takes her a minute to figure out which side is correct. Fortunately Richie refrains from any snarky comments – a first for him.

Once she figures it out, Richie graciously lifts his dick so she can roll it on, and she can’t help but laugh at that alone. God, it’s been so, so long since she was able to laugh during sex.

“Any special requests?” Richie asks as she shimmies further up his thighs, the hem of her t-shirt falling just below her bellybutton.

“You’re perfect just as you are,” Bev replies, lowering herself a bit to feel the outline of his shaft.

“Damn, what’s next? A mixtape?”

She laughs, then reaches down to raise him up and guide him inside, closing her eyes as Richie runs a hand along her outer thigh. She lowers herself an inch or two, wincing as she feels him push past that first ring of muscles. Once the initial discomfort subsides, she slides down to the base. She’s still soaking wet from earlier, which definitely makes things easier. Soon enough he’s fully inside, and her muscles contract involuntarily as she gets herself situated.

“Good job, sport,” Richie says, giving her a friendly pat on the thigh.

She leans forward, placing one hand on his chest and using the other to grip the back of the couch. She raises her hips and sighs as she feels him glide against all the right places.

“That’s nice,” he whispers. Bev opens her eyes to see him staring down to where they’re joined.

“Do you want Eddie to do this to you?” she asks, hoping for a distraction so she won’t get too stuck inside her head.

“Yeah,” Richie sighs. “God, he’d look so fucking good riding me like this. I want him to use me however he likes. I don’t know if he’s done anything with men before. I want to give him everything.”

Her hips keep moving, slowly working him. She can hear her own wetness. Her nipples are tented against the thin cotton of her shirt and her hair is sticking to her neck and cheeks in damp swatches.

“Part of me wonders if he’s so wound up ‘cause he hasn’t gotten laid since the stock market crashed. I think about fucking him for hours till he’s so worn out he loses all his sarcasm.”

Bev laughs as she reaches down to rub her clit, which is still swollen and sensitive from earlier. She strokes herself in time with her hips, stimulated enough to know this won’t take her very long.

“I want to stroke his cock while he’s on top of me. I want him to come all over my chest. I want to watch myself going inside him, over and over again.”

Bev’s close; her thrusts get faster. Richie’s grip on her thighs tightens, and the strength in his hands is comforting instead of intimidating.

“God, I want to see his face when he comes. I need to know what he sounds like.” Richie’s voice is getting clipped and desperate. Bev’s honestly surprised that he has the mental stamina to keep talking. “I want him so bad, Bev. I want him so fucking bad.”

Bev circles her clit faster, relying purely on instinct and muscle memory. She’s there; god, she’s right there.

“Are you close?” she asks, feeling slightly guilty that she’s the one who’s been getting all the attention.

“Yeah, almost,” he says, then closes his eyes, his head sinking back against the armrest.

Bev knows he’s thinking about Eddie instead of her, but she doesn’t mind. This is everything she could have asked for. At this point in time, it’s exactly what she needs.

She comes harder than she did before, clenching tight as she feels it reverberate behind her eyes. She feels him come as well with a series of clipped groans. Her movements slow to a halt, but it takes a while for the aftershocks to fully subside. And once she’s dragged it out for as long as she can, she climbs off him with the intent of collapsing by his side in a sweaty heap. Unfortunately her aim is off, and she lands too close to the edge of the couch, and with an undignified yelp rolls onto the carpet.

“Shit, you okay?” Richie asks after his failed attempt to catch her mid-fall.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replies from the floor. Then she lets out a laugh, too giddy to be embarrassed. Her hair is pooled around her head and the carpet feels nice against her tingling skin.

“You want to get back up here?” he asks, smiling down over the ledge.

“No, I’m okay,” she replies. She can already feel the postcoital lethargy weighing her down.

Richie laughs. “Okay, you have fun down there. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“Sounds good,” she replies, thoroughly content to lie here and float in subspace. She closes her eyes, her fingers lightly playing with the felt of the carpet. Richie pushes himself up with an exaggerated groan and haphazardly tosses a blanket over her before walking away.


	2. Chapter 2

She’s been floating in the bath for maybe an hour now, the novel she brought lying forgotten on the bathmat. The water is starting to grow tepid and her fingertips are pruny, but she’s in no hurry to get out. All of the bubbles have fallen flat, giving her an unobstructed view of her body: her nipples peaking just above the surface, her stomach and crotch, her unshaven thighs and smooth calves, right down to her toes, which are painted a light shade of green.

She never liked baths when she was younger. She never liked being naked at home for any extended period of time, which is a feeling that lingered into adulthood. In fact, she still doesn’t like bathing at all when Richie’s not home. She’s never told him that, but he is aware that she doesn’t like spending the nights alone.

She closes her eyes and lowers her ears beneath the surface, enjoying the hollow vibrations. She can feel her hair billowing around her head as the tips tickle her shoulders. The room smells like lavender.

She brings a hand between her legs to press against her clit, and begins moving her finger in slow circles, not thinking about anything in particular. Water definitely isn’t an ideal lubricant, but the passive interest is pleasant enough. She can touch herself properly once she’s settled in bed.

It’s been a full month since she and Richie last fooled around, and she can’t deny that she misses it. Of course she knew the arrangement would always be temporary, but it’s a shame they had to call it quits just as she was beginning to enjoy sex again. Maybe it’s selfish of her to feel that way, but a little jealousy between friends never hurt anyone.

Eddie finally made the first move a couple weeks back, and Richie – bless his heart – has not shut up about him since. Everything Eddie did sent him over the moon, whether it was a passably witty tweet or an overly picky restaurant order. Sometimes Richie raves about him like an academic with a captive audience, and Bev can’t help but feel like a bit of a third wheel.

But she’s an adult, and she’s happy for them. Besides, it’s probably not a good idea to let herself grow reliant on Richie – for sex or anything else.

She smiles to herself. Here she is, jealous because her gay friend is in a monogamous relationship and won’t go down on her anymore. She’s definitely the punchline of that joke.

There’s a light knock on the door. It’s faint, but rattles her enough that she quickly withdraws her hand from between her legs and shoots her head up.

“Hey, Bev?” Richie calls. “Sorry, I just need to brush my teeth before Eddie gets here.”

Damn, is it almost nine o’clock already?

“I’ll be right out!” she calls back, then grasps either side of the tub to raise herself up, the water cascading down her body. She steps over the lip, grabs her towel, and hastily dries herself off before wrapping the towel around her hair. Her teeth clatter with the chill until she can get her other towel tight around her body.

She unlocks the door and pulls it open. Richie’s standing a few feet away, fiddling with his phone.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” she says.

“No rush,” he replies with a smile as he scoots past her.

“So what are you and Eddie getting up to tonight?” she asks as Richie wets his toothbrush.

“Not sure yet.” He squirts out a generous glob of toothpaste. “You want to watch something with us? Eddie somehow slept through the entire golden age of television, so I’m trying to get him caught up. Seriously, all he watches are true crime documentaries and poker tutorials. He’s kind of insane actually.”

Bev smiles. She picked up on that quite a while ago. “Thanks, but I have a meeting I have to prep for tomorrow.” She pulls the towel off her head to start squeezing her hair dry. “You guys have fun though.”

She turns toward her door, which is only about three steps away, but before she can slip inside, Richie calls after her – his mouth full of toothpaste.

“Hey,” he calls, right before spitting into the sink. “I just wanted to let you know that I, um…” he trails off. Bev waits, one hand on the doorframe and the other still drying her hair.

“I told Eddie about us,” he finally finishes while looking down at the floor. “Hope that’s okay.”

Oh, is that it? She was worried it was something serious.

“Sorry,” he continues before she can reply. “I know I should’ve ran it by you first, but surprise surprise, Eddie’s really paranoid about STDs, so of course he asked if I’d slept with anyone lately, and it just slipped out.”’

Bev gives a half-laugh, mainly just to ease the tension. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. But out of curiosity, how’d he react?”

Richie smiles, probably relieved that she’s not going to get on his case about it. “He thought it was a joke at first. Then he was just impressed. Then he asked if we filmed any of it.”

She laughs. “Maybe we should have.”

“Yeah, a celebrity sex tape for the ages.” He leans down to scoop some water into his mouth and spit it back out. In spite of herself, Bev can’t help but remember the feeling of his tongue between her legs.

She stares down at the carpet, trying to figure out a decent exit line. She hates how stifled their conversations have become in recent weeks, although the blame undoubtedly rests with her more than him.

“Well, give Eddie my best, and don’t leave your food out in the living room this time. I don’t want mice.”

“Will do,” he replies, and with that she takes the opportunity to slip inside her room and close the door.

Once she’s alone, her smile falls flat. Why the hell have things been so awkward between them? Things never got awkward back when they were having sex. But now their interactions have more or less been reduced to hallway passings, like two estranged roommates.

She drops the towel from around her chest and pulls on the sweatpants she left on the bed this morning, then nestles between the covers, too lazy to grab a fresh t-shirt from her dresser. Then she opens her laptop and refreshes her inbox, skimming the new messages and tossing a few in the trash. She opens one that she absolutely needs to respond to before work tomorrow, but instead of typing out a reply, she just lies there, blankly staring at the screen.

Then she hears the front door open, and Eddie makes his grand entrance. Eddie, to no one’s surprise, never runs out of things to say. She hasn’t spent much time with him as of late, electing to keep her distance so Richie can have him all to himself. But their apartment is small enough that she can overhear most of Eddie’s rants through the thin walls.

Richie is right: Eddie is categorically out of his mind, but it blends perfectly with Richie’s wry humor. Things never seem to stall out between them, not like they do with her. And after only a month of dating they seem to have so many in-jokes and references that it’s starting to sound like their own language. Bev has never had anything like that before. And yes, she’s jealous. She can admit it.

Since she’s not too keen on overhearing Richie and Eddie’s mystery science commentary on whatever they decide to watch, she plugs in her headphones and pulls up Netflix to skim through the unending list of titles that she has no interest in watching. She cycles through Hulu and HBO for a while until she’s positive that she’s seen the poster art for every movie and TV show released within the last ten years, at which point she gives in and pulls up PornHub.

She’s not even that horny, but she still reaches a hand down her sweatpants, and finds that she’s still a little wet from touching herself in the tub, but it’s not much to work with. Just as she did with the streaming sites, she cycles through various categories, her expression flat as she watches three minutes of one thing and five of another, never invested enough to make it to the climax.

Her fingers go still after a while, and then she’s just lying there in the dark watching porn with no purpose. The only clips that evoke a modicum of interest are the infinite videos of women on their knees getting taken from behind, which is a position she and Richie never got to try. They only had the chance to properly fuck twice before he and Eddie got their act together, and there’s so much more she wanted to do.

She wanted to do all the things that Tom made her afraid of. She wanted to be on her knees with someone gripping her hands behind her back. She wanted someone to pull her hair without fear that it would lead to her head getting bashed against the bed frame. She wanted to be sore in the morning, and have a couple bruises to show for it.

Great, now she’s upset. She’s upset and not horny enough to get off and Richie and Eddie are laughing in the other room while she’s watching webcam-quality porn. Really at the top of her game here.

She doesn’t remember drifting off to sleep. She remembers getting annoyed about feeling tired, like a moody toddler, but next thing she knows, her head is woozy and her laptop screen is dark. She reaches out to tap a button, bringing up the home screen, and according to the monitor it’s already half past eleven.

She groans and flexes her legs, feeling groggy and disoriented, upset about the missed time even though she knows she wouldn’t have done anything productive with it anyway. She’s just about to roll over and try to fall back asleep when she hears a creaking sound from the wall above her head. She ignores it, assuming it’s just steam in the pipes. It’s an old building, it can get noisy.

But then her ears pick up the unmistakeable sound of moaning. It’s muffled through the wall, but there’s nothing else it could be. She perks up in interest and attunes her ears.

She can make out the sound of the bed shifting rhythmically. Between the two of them, Eddie is definitely making the most noise. That makes sense; Richie was never all that vocal whenever they fooled around, except in the dirty talk department.

She should definitely just go back to sleep and ignore them. That’s what she did with her roommates in college. But she can’t obstruct the sounds that make it to her ears: subtle gasps and surprised moans, and a few stray curses here and there. Sometimes she can make out full words:

_“You like that?”_

_“God, you’re hard.”_

_“Knees. Now.”_

That last line makes Bev press her thighs together with a twinge of interest. She swears Eddie is the one who said it, which is a pleasant surprise. She wonders if they’re aware of how thin the walls are, of it they’re just so lost in it they can’t be bothered to care. She wonders if this is the first round or if she slept through what came before it. Are they really going at it as hard as they sound? Are they whispering things she can’t hear?

She knows what Richie’s body looks like, so it’s easy for her to envision him in perfect detail on his knees in front of Eddie, enjoying all the things she wants done to her. She rubs her knees together, circles her nipple until it’s hard and peaked, and imagines what it would be like to sit in the room with them, either watching or participating – she’s not picky.

She kicks off her sweatpants and is now fully naked against the sheets. God, she wants one of them to fuck her from behind while she sucks off the other, choking and gagging as she’s driven forward, trapped by the hands encircling her hips. She wouldn’t mind getting spanked, tossed around a bit, fucked hard while bent uncomfortably far. She’s never been with two guys at the same time before. What would it be like to have both of them inside her at the same time?

Her whole body is now covered in a fine layer of sweat. She wonders if they’ll be able to hear her vibrator if she pulls it out. If she keeps it under the blankets that will probably be enough to muffle the sound. If they pick up on it they’ll probably just assume it’s the whirl of an air conditioner or something.

As quietly as she can, she slides open her bedside drawer, wincing when the corners creak. Richie and Eddie still sound fully occupied, so she carefully withdraws the toy and decides that the best course of action is stuffing it in a pillowcase. It’s a plain plastic vibrator with no bells and whistles, so it’s easy enough to slide it in her pillowcase and kneel on top, the length pressed between her lips. She presses the button, bringing it to the lowest setting. The gentle vibrations are dulled by the fabric, and it’s just barely enough to tease her.

Richie and Eddie are really going at it now. They must be aware that she can hear them, even just a little bit. Or maybe they want that. Maybe they’re just as turned on as she is by the thought of being overheard.

She grips the pillow tight against her crotch and shifts forward, aware that she’s going to leave behind a wet spot that will dry into a light stain. She reaches down to turn the vibe up to the next setting, and leans forward to get some pressure on her clit. She experimentally reaches down to stroke her opening, and finds that she’s obscenely wet. She uses it to coat her clit, pretending that the moisture is from one of their tongues.

 _“Fuck,”_ she hears Eddie groan through the wall.

She bears down harder. Her tits bounce playfully as she rocks forward. She grips the headboard, careful not to make too much noise. Eddie’s curses are growing more frequent, and she can hear Richie losing his composure as well. She tries to picture exactly what they're doing: arrange their voices in the correct position. She imagines Richie’s palms pressed against the wall as Eddie takes him, maybe one hand in his hair and the other stroking his dick. She reaches down to rub her clit, hoping to beat them to the punch.

God, she wants to see it. She wants to watch them kiss and touch and come on each other while she plays with herself off to the side. She wants to blow both of them at the same time. She wants to feel dirty and used, fucked until she can’t walk, sore in all the right places and a few wrong ones.

Richie is practically begging now. She circles herself faster, trying to stifle her breathing, and when she hears one or both of them let out unmistakeable sounds of release she falls off right along with them. She clamps a hand over her mouth to trap the sound. Her chest and throat immediately ache from choking it back. With her free hand she fumbles to turn off the vibrator, struggling to find the button beneath the fabric.

Finally she kills it, and all of a sudden the world feels so quiet, like the flip of a switch. The rushing in her head comes to a standstill; Richie’s room has gone silent. Her legs are quivering and her head is a bit dizzy. She lowers herself onto the mattress and curls up her knees, feeling euphoric and a bit dirty.

The post-orgasmic guilt creeps in almost immediately, cloaking her in a film of shame for jerking off to the sound of her two friends fucking. She’s suddenly very aware of her nudity, so she blindly reaches out for her sweatpants. In the darkness she slips them back on, and just as she begins to hear soft laughter coming from the other room, she drifts back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a long while before Bev is able to successfully get off again.

She goes a couple weeks without touching herself out of a mix of stress and plain disinterest. Occasionally she’ll overhear Richie and Eddie having a fun time through the wall, but she more or less tunes it out. It’s embarrassing to admit, but jealousy isn’t the best masturbation fodder.

Work has been a nightmare. She’s coming home late, eating too much junk food, and she’s as bitter as ever. After three weeks of abstinence she pulls out her vibrator and tries to get something started. She’s really not in the mood, but it’s not like every wank session needs to be high art. She fiddles with the settings, rolls around a bit, clicks through some porn, and after an hour her clit is sore, she’s nauseous from the vibrations, and far more hungry than horny. So she gives up, and tries again the next night with the same result. And the next night as well.

She feels like she’s one minor inconvenience away from tearing a phonebook in half. Throughout the workday she’s sore without any of the satisfaction. If this goes on much longer she might make an appointment with her doctor. Maybe she needs to adjust her birth control, or get her hormone levels checked. She is forty after all; it’s not like her body can turn it on and off like a tap hose anymore. Of course this line of thought fills her with anxiety that her anorgasmia might be a sign of menopause. It’d be early, but not abnormal. It seems unlikely since she’s had no other symptoms, but there’s nothing more effective at killing one’s libido than falling down a WebMD rabbit hole.

By the fifth night she’s begging for it under her breath, whimpering into her pillow. She spends who knows how long with her vibrator on the highest setting and rubbing herself so hard it burns. She’s soaked in sweat in a manner that’s not arousing in the slightest. She can’t focus on anything; she can’t concentrate on any images or memories or walk through any fantasies. Everything has been reduced to this unrelenting need to come, to push through the pain in the hope of finding relief on the other side.

But it doesn’t happen, and at this point it hurts so much she has no choice but to stop. She wants to sob from the frustration. Her crotch is pulsing in time with her heart, but she knows that if she reaches down to touch herself again it’ll just be worse than before. She’s always struggled getting off without a partner, but it’s never been this difficult, not even when she was young and still trying to figure things out. Maybe she really should book an appointment. She’s due for a pap smear anyway. She can bring it up as a casual side issue and pretend she's not losing her mind over it.

Once the sweat on her arms is dry she pulls the blankets over her chest, ready to fall asleep and hope her body is back to stasis by morning. God, it was always so easy with Richie. She really should have appreciated it while it lasted.

When she wakes up the throb has more or less vanished, but the ache is still there. It takes all the restraint in the world not to reach beneath the blankets and start touching herself, but she has a meeting at 9:00 that she can’t be late for. So she climbs out of bed and starts getting dressed, hypersensitive to the way her pantyhose rub against her inner thighs. She tries to concentrate while sitting at her desk, but her thoughts only grow dirtier the more she tries to repress them. She keeps getting hot flashes that definitely aren’t menopausal in nature. She heard somewhere that some women can reach orgasm just by squeezing their thighs together, so she crosses her legs and presses them together until she feels like she’s going to blow a blood vessel.

She’s never masturbated at work before, but she does have a private bathroom, and maybe if she didn’t have back-to-back meetings all day she would give in. Things get really unbearable when she has to review the photoshoot for their latest mens wear line, and finds herself transfixed by all the male models, no better than a teenage boy leering at the pretty women on magazine covers in a gas station.

Finally the day is over. Hell or high water, she’s going to get herself into bed and touch herself until she comes, even if it takes all night. She’s so horny she’s weighing the option of going out to a bar and picking someone up, even though she knows she’d regret it in the morning, if not sooner.

She gets her key in the lock and pushes the door open, ready to go straight to her bedroom without even washing up. But lo and behold, Richie’s standing right there in the living room, obstructing her path with an expression that clearly means he’s in the mood for smalltalk.

“Hey, how was work?” he asks, holding a cup of coffee that he probably shouldn’t be drinking at 5:30.

She steps out of her heels, trying to think of a segue that will get her out of this without appearing rude.

“It was alright,” she replies. She stretches out her ankles and bends her feet forward like a ballerina to crack all her toes.

“Yeah, my day was alright too,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee. Rationally Bev knows it’s a perfectly normal sip, but in her mind it seems comically long, like a gag in a sitcom. “By the way, I got invited to the premiere of this movie that’s definitely going to suck ass. But I know some of the guys who worked on it so I have to pay my respects. You think you could hook me up with a suit? Not black tie, just something that wouldn’t offend my mom.”

“Yeah, of course,” she nods, feeling completely unhinged.

“Cool. It’s a week from now, so sorry for the late notice. But if you want some gossip, my friend was filling me in on all the behind the scenes shit. You ever heard of the actor Paul Craig? Yeah, I know, stupid fucking name. Anyway, he was originally cast in the lead but got dropped after two weeks of shooting because he got exposed for running a bunch of Instagram socks where he left shitty comments on the lead actress' posts. Not death threats or anything, mainly just bitchy one-liners. Said he did it because he found out he was making $20k less than her even though he has more screen time. He only got busted because he accidentally posted a selfie on one of the socks. And then–"

“Hey, sorry, I’m going to grab a drink,” Bev interrupts, already inching towards the kitchen.

“Cool, I got more orange juice, and the liquor store got more of that weird beer you like so I stocked up in case they run out again.”

A beer, that sounds really nice. She opens the fridge to find four six-packs waiting for her, so she tugs off a can, opens it, and takes a long sip before even closing the fridge.

“Rough day?” Richie asks, leaning against the kitchen door, completely blocking Bev’s escape.

She nods. “Yeah, just the usual bullshit. We have to redo a shoot because the photographer was drunk and then our flagship had some flooding and it’s just…” She wants to reach up to tug at her hair, but she got some beer on her hands when she popped the tab. She leans back against the counter and stares at the wall, knowing that looking at Richie’s face will only make her angrier.

“Shit. If it’s any consolation, I blew an audition today. I’m too famous to even be doing auditions anymore and somehow I still fuck them up.”

Bev laughs, then takes another long sip.

“Sorry, I’m in a really bad mood. I think I just need to be alone for the night,” she says, even though that’s the last thing she wants. She hates the idea of going back to her room, jerking off, falling asleep, and waking up at 10:00pm disoriented and upset with herself. She knows that’s exactly what’s going to happen, but she’s still bitter about it.

“Sure, cool,” Richie replies, awkwardly stepping out of the doorframe to allow her to pass. “But hey, um, weird question.”

She stops in the hall, only a couple feet from her door.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” Richie asks.

A sense of guilt sinks to her stomach. She glances up at Richie, only to see him looking at her like a kicked puppy, so she turns her eyes down to her feet in shame. She knows her attitude has been cold ever since he and Eddie got together, but she hoped her act was just convincing enough, which seems absurd upon reflection.

“It’s okay if you are,” Richie continues. “It’d just be nice to know why. Did I do something?”

Bev shakes her head. “No, don’t worry, it’s not you. This one is entirely on me.”

“You sure?”

Bev takes a sip of her beer and shuffles her feet, knowing she can’t put off this conversation any longer.

“It’s so, so stupid,” she starts, “but I’m really jealous of you and Eddie.”

Richie raises his eyebrows a bit in surprise, but it might just be for show. She feels like she’s been pretty obvious about it.

“And not because I have feelings for either of you,” she clarifies, although she’s not entirely sure if that’s true anymore. “It’s just tough being the third wheel sometimes. Especially since things were really terrible for me for a really long time, then they were so great with you, and now… I just don’t know where to go from here.”

Maybe it’s the sexual frustration, but in a flash her horniness plummets and she wants to down the rest of that six-pack and cry into her pillow. She takes another sip of her beer, fighting off the tears pressing around the rims of her eyes. She raises her head to keep them from falling, knowing they’ll mess up her makeup.

“You want to sit down?” Richie asks, looking towards the couch.

She nods. It’s not like her idealistic goal of furiously masturbating is going to lead anywhere in her current state. So she plops down next to Richie, feeling gross from head to toe.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, it’s kind of my fault too,” Richie says. “I knew you were jealous, but I kind of liked it. You know, seeing someone else want what you have feels good, in a very immature way.”

“That’s not immature. Have you ever been on Instagram?”

Richie smiles. “Yeah, guess it’s pretty standard. But hey, you should hang out with us more. We can get dinner, see a show, pretend we’re a celebrity power couple and Eddie’s our whore.”

Bev laughs, already envisioning it. “I won’t mess up your two-man act?”

Richie shakes his head, then looks down at the carpet, a subtle blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to bring up.” He trails off, his eyes darting around to focus on anything except for her. Bev waits, suddenly nervous. He’s probably going to bring up the possibility of moving in with Eddie. That would be the logical progression. She just hates the idea of living alone.

Richie gives a small laugh under his breath then reaches up to take off his glasses. “I don’t know how much you miss the sex, but if you ever want to join us, consider this an open invitation.”

Bev lets out a laugh, almost positive it’s a joke. But Richie doesn’t laugh in return; he just smiles while cleaning his glasses on the edge of his shirt.

“Wait, you’re serious?” she asks, making it clear that she’s not turned off by the idea in the slightest.

“As ever. Eddie’s actually the one who suggested it. He really wants to watch me fuck you.”

Bev raises her eyebrows in interest. “Kinky bastard.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Bev takes another sip of her beer, feeling like a kid who just found out they’re going to Disneyland.

“Yeah, I’d be really into that. Honestly, I’ve never been so horny in my life.” She leans back against the couch with a dramatic huff, her hair falling flat around her eyes. The AC is on full blast, but she’s still sweating from every crevice. “I haven’t been able to get off in over a month,” she says with a sigh, feeling a bit like a caricature of a fifties housewife.

“Jesus, I’m pretty sure people die from shit like that,” Richie says with the exaggerated tone of a concerned doctor.

“Maybe I’ll be the first. I don’t know if it’s my body or my head or my birth control or what. But it’s like trying to pick a popcorn kernel out of my teeth.” She takes another sip of her beer, and curses when some of it dribbles onto her blouse.

“Sorry, can’t relate. I think my personal record is half an hour, and the coke was really padding out my score.”

Bev laughs and brings a hand up to rub at her eyes, thoroughly messing up her mascara. “God, I was at it for over an hour last night.”

“Jesus, doesn’t it hurt after a while?”

“Yeah, it hurts.” She exhales, feeling the discomfort between her legs flare back to life. She shifts against the cushion, but it only exacerbates the low-grade wedgie she’s had since she climbed into the car. While she knows that getting off won’t fix all of her problems, it should at least make her marginally more sociable.

Richie hums, thinking to himself. “Well, do you want some help?”

She looks at him quizzically. “What sort of help?” she asks. She knows what he’s suggesting, but could use some elaboration.

Richie shrugs. “Not to suck my own dick, but I was always pretty good at getting you sorted.”

Bev smiles playfully, her mood on the rise. “Eddie won’t mind?”

“He’s cool with it. He knows you’re my celebrity hall pass.”

Bev thinks it over for maybe half a second, then reaches out to rest a hand on his cheek and stroke her thumb over his stubble. Then she runs it across his shoulder, down his arm, and coyly takes Richie’s hand and guides it beneath her pencil skirt. She parts her legs as he runs his fingers up her inner thigh and presses his full palm against her crotch. Her mouth drops open, weeks of frustration boiling to the surface. Richie begins pushing against her in a slow rhythm, grinding through the two layers of fabric separating them. He presses against her clit with the pad of his thumb, which evokes both the pain of rug burn and the relief of stepping in a hot bath.

“You’re really red,” Richie whispers, using his free hand to sweep some hair behind her ear.

She can only endure Richie cupping her for maybe a minute before she needs more. So she reaches down to bunch up her skirt and tug down her underwear and pantyhose in one move. Richie slides off the couch to help roll them down her legs, pressing a kiss to her knee along the way. She can smell herself instantly. It’s heavy, and seems to fill the whole room.

Richie leans forward to rub his thumb along her slit. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers.

Bev shudders and scoots further down the couch. His thumb presses against her opening, but doesn’t go inside. He trails it around her, circling over her clit, spreading her lips.

“I really can’t be teased right now,” she pants. Normally she enjoys it, but right now it feels like there’s a weight on her chest that she needs to remove if she wants to breathe.

“Yeah, let me fix you up,” Richie says before leaning forward and pressing his mouth straight to her clit.

She doesn’t moan. Instead she just pinches her eyes shut and instinctively clutches his head in place. He only gives her gentle licks, but anything harder would probably be painful. She’s so sensitive that just the bare warmth is enough to make her stomach and thighs light up with heat. Her mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. The only audible noise in their apartment is the hum of the refrigerator and the dirty wet sounds around Richie’s mouth.

He moves from licking to light sucking. He closes his lips over her, creating a small shell of warmth, the same relief as sucking on a paper cut.

“You’re so good at this,” she sighs.

Richie pulls away with a small laugh. “No, you’re just really horny.”

Bev gives a small laugh in return, but it’s cut short when he goes back to work, alternating between licking and sucking, occasionally taking a break to run his tongue down her center, giving her a chance to catch her breath. It’s only been a few minutes and she’s already closer than she’s been in weeks. If she can’t come from this then she might simply die. She swears if she can just get off she’ll be fine for weeks. She just needs it.

“You’re almost there. You got this,” Richie whispers, and Bev practically melts. Richie’s really good at talking.

He presses his lips back to her swollen clit, which she can feel pulsing against his tongue. She tries to think of something that will help her over the edge, but she can't envision anything better than this. And when she looks down to see Richie’s face nestled between her legs that’s enough to get her on the right track. She feels the pieces slot together, and settles into the certainty that as long as Richie keeps going, she’ll get there.

“Almost,” she gasps. “Keep going.”

Richie runs the flat of his tongue up her slit, laps at her clit, and works her until she must be dripping down his chin. She counts the rotations of his tongue, steadily feeling it build.

“Yeah,” she sighs, counting off seven circles. She feels it burning, like steam trapped beneath cling wrap, expanding upward, hot and wet, ready to pop. The buildup grows painful as her sensitivity rises, but she grits her teeth and breathes through it, knowing the end is in sight. Right there, right where he’s touching her.

It starts slow, then hits her all at once. Her vision tunnels and her eyes roll back as weeks of frustration finally drain away. She hangs there for a while, mouth open, silently gasping against the warm air. She feels like every crooked joint in her body was pushed back into place with a satisfying pop. Richie finally pulls away, and the cool air feels nice, like pressing ice against a sunburn.

“So, threesome?” he asks before pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, clearly pleased with himself.

Bev gives a short laugh. “Just set the date. Call my secretary.”

“How’s tomorrow night?” he asks while pulling her skirt down a bit, as if he really needed to shield her modesty.

“Perfect.” She pushes herself up and leans down to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.


	4. Chapter 4

On her way home from work Bev stops to pick up two bottles of red wine and a bag of M&Ms, which she eats a handful of immediately after getting back in her car. It’s a Friday night and the streets are packed, both from normal rush hour traffic and all the families leaving the city for the weekend. She snacks on her M&Ms while inching between stop lights, wishing she’d picked up some soda to complete her cheat meal.

She gets home around six and heads up to Richie’s apartment, which she’s started to think of as her own. She opens the door just in time to see Eddie walking into the living room in a pair of sweats. He obviously just got out of the shower; his hair is wet and skin moist, and there are a few wet patches clinging to his shirt. Bev toes off her heels while trying to pretend she’s not checking him out in the corner of her eye. Her purse is slung over one shoulder and she’s holding the two bottles of wine in her free hand. She gives Eddie a smile, trying to figure out what to say. They haven’t been alone together in over a month, and she’s not entirely sure what their dynamic is supposed to be.

“Hey, how was your day?” she asks.

“Eh, it was alright.” He shrugs and walks over to the couch. “I’ve been doing a lot of boring data entry lately so I’ve been binging every podcast Richie’s ever been on. He has like fourteen different personalities depending on who’s hosting.”

Bev passes by him to grab the corkscrew from the kitchen. “I haven’t listened to any of his podcasts,” she says while pulling it from the drawer. “Is he any fun to listen to?”

“Yeah, it depends. When he’s talking with his friends it’s great. But there’s a lot where you can tell he really doesn’t want to be there. His publicity persona sucks.”

Bev grabs two empty wine glasses before heading back over to the couch, bottle and corkscrew in tow. “Isn’t it nice just listening to his voice though? I don’t know how he talks for so long. Five minutes in a board meeting and I start going hoarse.” She sits by Eddie’s side, closer than she would normally.

“Yeah, me too. I only have a couple more episodes to get through. I started with the oldest ones. It’s so weird how much he’s changed just over the last five years or so.”

Bev nods as she tugs the aluminum off the top of the bottle to expose the cork. “Don’t tell him this, but when we were kids I thought he was delusional for wanting to go into comedy. But granted, I thought Bill was crazy too. Remember those terrible short stories he made us read?”

Eddie gives a small laugh. “Yeah, he couldn’t write anything without killing off a kid, a dog, or a grandparent. Didn’t he write something about two twins being buried alive and eating each other?”

“Yeah, he made me read that one over lunch.” She smiles as she begins unscrewing the cork, twisting it until it pulls out with a satisfying pop.

“Where’s Richie by the way?” she asks while pouring out their glasses.

“He’s just getting the laundry from the basement. He’ll be back in a minute.”

Bev nods and hands Eddie his glass while raising her own in a toast.

“To cannibal twins,” she offers.

“To Richie’s four-hour Joe Rogan podcast.”

“Jesus Christ, four hours?”

“Yeah, I’ve listened to it three times. I hate myself.”

They clink their glasses together and each take a sip. Bev splurged a bit on the wine, although she can’t tell if it’s any better than the second cheapest. But it makes her perk up almost instantly; she’s a notorious lightweight on an empty stomach.

“This is good,” Eddie remarks. “Any special occasion?”

Bev panics for a moment, but then she remembers that Eddie communicates in infuriatingly dry sarcasm.

“Nothing in particular,” she replies with a shrug. “Just a quiet night in with my roommate and some fan he’s been fooling around with on the side.”

“Damn, what an asshole.”

“Yeah, he feels real bad about taking advantage of someone who admires him so much,” she teases while coyly shifting closer.

“Psh, he couldn’t take advantage of me if he tried. He doesn’t even make more than me. He just has more Twitter followers.” Eddie takes another sip of his wine and Bev summons the courage to place a hand on his knee, getting a kick out of the way his face blanks. It’s nice having the opportunity to flirt when she already knows the outcome.

“I’ve really missed hanging out with you,” she says, genuinely. “You know I haven’t been avoiding you, right? I’ve just been trying to give you and Richie space.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know. You’re a great wingman.”

Bev doesn’t miss the way his eyes dart down to her lips. Or the way his tongue peaks out to moisten his own. Her thighs clench together involuntarily as her chest suddenly gets hot beneath her blouse. She quickly downs the rest of her wine, but winces when it triggers a spasm in her jaw. She places the empty glass back on the coffee table and reaches up to massage the spot beneath her ear.

“Yeah, Richie gets that too,” Eddie says. “It’s the tannins, right?” He reaches out to cradle her chin and run a thumb up her jaw, and begins rubbing circles around the source of the ache. It’s a move so suave she never would have expected it from him, and she’s pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’s genetic,” she replies, somewhat entranced.

They lock eyes, and with no further debate mutually lean in. Bev closes her eyes as their lips connect, and it feels like the wine is truly kicking in. She turns her head to slot their mouths together. Eddie presses in deeper and runs his tongue along her lower lip. She places one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder and begins pulling him closer, eventually far enough that she’s leaning back against the armrest and encouraging him to make himself comfortable on top of her.

“That was fast,” he laughs after coming up for air.

“Eh, we’ve known each other since kindergarten,” she says while running her palms down his chest and trying to construct the shape of his muscles in her mind.

“Good point,” he says, right before pressing his mouth back to hers.

Just then they hear a key rattling in the door. They quickly pull away just as Richie steps through with a laundry basket under his arm. Eddie’s still half on top of Bev and her skirt is rucked up to her hips. It’s a compromising position to say the least.

“Wait, I’ve seen this porno before,” Richie says while closing the door. “Which one of you is the babysitter?” He walks over and drops the hamper next to the coffee table, causing the wine bottles to tremble.

“Should we role-play?” she asks. “Pretend you caught us off-guard?”

“Oh yeah? Is Eddie our pool boy?”

“Why is that even a trope?” Eddie asks while righting himself up. “What’s sexy about cleaning algae and dead rodents out of pool gutters?”

“Your charming attitude,” Richie replies while reaching down to ruffle Eddie’s damp hair. “You guys hungry? Or should we save dinner for later?”

Bev looks at Eddie, trying to gauge his thoughts. The truth is she’s starving. She skimped on lunch and those M&Ms mixed with the wine aren’t doing her any favors, but she also has her skirt bunched up to her hips and isn’t in the mood to wait another hour before she can take it off.

“I might grab a granola bar or something, but I’m good to wait for a while,” she says, trying not to let on how eager she is.

“Yeah, I’m good with that,” Eddie chimes in.

Richie smiles. “Good, ‘cause I’m starving.” With that he leans down and kisses Eddie hard, bringing a hand up to his cheek to hold him in place. After a moment of surprise, Eddie returns it, but Richie pulls away before he can get into it. Then he turns to Bev and does the same, but it’s gentler, more like the way you’d kiss your date after walking her home. But again, he pulls away before she can properly enjoy it.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, then picks up Eddie’s half-empty wine glass and downs what’s left, hissing when it makes his jaw lock. “Damn, this must be the good shit. The cheap stuff doesn’t do that.” He begins walking to the bathroom, but before he can step inside Bev calls after him.

“Hey, mind if I join you? After I get something to eat?”

Richie seems to give Eddie a look, silently asking if it would be alright.

“What’re you looking at me for?” Eddie asks. “You can take each other to homecoming for all I care.”

Bev laughs, genuinely having the time of her life. “Okay, let me just grab something. I’ll be right in.” She stands from the couch and gets hit with a short dizzy spell, a combination of the wine, sugar, and adrenaline.

“Take your time,” Richie says before disappearing into the bathroom.

Bev strips off her blazer, drops it on the couch, then stretches out her shoulders. “You’d never think he’d be the type of guy to throw you off like that,” she says while walking towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, apparently he was a big anonymous slut before coming back to Derry.” Eddie remarks while following behind her.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She pulls open the cabinet above the sink and reaches in to grab a granola bar. “You want one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands one off to Eddie and grabs another for herself. It probably won’t do much to sate her appetite, but maybe after they’re finished they can order a really nice meal. Splurge on something decadent that will taste all the better in the aftermath.

“Have you done anything like this before?” Eddie asks while tearing open his wrapper.

She tugs open her own and takes a bite. It’s one of those health bars without any of the sugar or syrup. Richie started buying them because Eddie eats them, and they’ve become a staple for her as well.

“I had a threesome with another girl once. But it wasn’t exactly my idea. This was before I met Tom. My boyfriend at the time was already cheating on me with her.” She takes another bite, and a piece of granola gets wedged between her teeth.

“Who the hell would cheat on you?” Eddie asks in disbelief. “Seriously, how could anyone do better than you?”

Bev blushes so hard she feels the need to lower her head. It’s been a long time since anyone has said something like that to her. She was with Tom for nine years, but anytime someone so much as admired her shoes he would lash out in jealousy. In the final year of the marriage she can probably count the number of times he complimented her on one hand.

“I haven’t exactly had the best luck,” she says, taking another small bite. She knows it’s not entirely a matter of bad luck. She’s always had a type, and it’s exactly like the man who raised her.

Eddie takes a bite of his own bar while leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, I had some crappy luck too. You know, me and Myra didn’t have sex for over a year before we split up.”

“Damn, and you didn’t think about leaving sooner?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like I had anything better going on.” He finishes his bar and takes his time chewing. The sun is starting to set, and he’s devastatingly handsome in the off-orange light coming through the kitchen window. The gel he normally lathers in his hair before going to work has been washed clean, and his hair is drying in several different directions. “To be honest, I was pretty sure I was gay. Then I got with Richie and was even more sure. But now, not so much.”

Bev nods, and despite her best manners, her eyes drop down to the seam of his crotch.

“What changed?” she asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Nothing really. Just got some distance from Myra.”

Bev nods and takes a final bite of her snack. She crumples up the wrapper and tosses it in the trash. Then on a whim, she walks up to Eddie and kisses him hard, pressing him back against the counter. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the fact that he’s short enough that she doesn’t have to stand on her tiptoes. Eddie is surprised at first, but then he settles into it. He wraps his around her waist and settles a palm over her lower back. Then he begins pulling the hem of her blouse out of her skirt, tugging at the fabric until he can get his hand under it.

Bev wants him. She wants him inside her, around her. She already has a sense that she’s going to get her heart broken.

She pulls away, but her lips don’t leave his vicinity. The air is charged, and she hopes Eddie is on the same page, or at least reading the same book.

“This might be a problem,” he whispers. The heat on his breath sends a shudder down her arms.

“Yeah, maybe.” There’s an unmistakable shape pressing against her abdomen, and she’d love nothing more than to get on her knees and do something about it. But that feels like it would be against the rules without Richie here.

“I’m going to go shower,” she says, and quickly turns in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Eddie hard against the counter.

She steps down the hall and opens the door without knocking, and immediately feels rude for doing so. Richie doesn’t protest though. She can see his silhouette behind the shower curtain, but it’s little more than a grey blob amongst all the steam.

“Come to join the party?” he asks.

“Yeah, just a sec.” She unzips her skirt and unbuttons her blouse. Then she unclips her bra and pushes down her pantyhose. The air is warm and heavy, and she’s certain she’s already wet.

She pulls back the curtain a bit and steps over the lip of the tub. Richie seems to be washing the last traces of shampoo out of his hair. He scans her body up and down as though he were checking her out, but it may be more for show. She knows that without his glasses he can see next to nothing.

That’s when she realizes this is the first time she’s seen him properly naked. During their previous hookups they always kept on at least one article of clothing, but in retrospect she can’t say why. But now she can see all of him, and she hopes this won’t be the only time.

“Trade spots?” he asks.

She nods and scoots past him to stand under the running water. The heat feels nice against the back of her neck, but she does have to turn the temperature down a bit since Richie is apparently a masochist with six layers of skin. Then she soaks her hair and scratches along her scalp, rinsing out the layer of hairspray.

“I’m glad you and Eddie are getting along, in the biblical sense,” he says in a tone that sounds genuine enough.

“You’re really okay with this?” she asks while scrubbing her face to remove her makeup. They never fully laid out what exactly they want from this. Is this something they’re going to do regularly? Can they only do it as a group? Is Richie just putting on a brave face to make Eddie happy? She’s guessing the same questions are in their heads as well.

Richie shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of it. Hand me the soap?”

Bev passes over the bar sitting on the small shelf, and bristles in surprise when Richie immediately presses it to her shoulder and begins rubbing it in circles. He runs it down her forearm, around her palm, and massages the suds between her fingers. If she wasn’t wet before, she definitely is now.

“It’s complicated,” Richie continues as he begins running the soap over her chest. He circles it around each of her breasts, playfully fondling them along the way. Bev stays as still as she can as he switches to her other arm, repeating the process, cleaning each of her fingers with all the care of a valuable instrument. “I’m still trying to figure it out,” he continues, “but… I like what we have here.”

Bev gets the feeling that’s as much exposition as she’s going to get. It’s not exactly the introspective soliloquy she was hoping for, but she has to make peace with the fact that Richie’s feelings towards her will never be the same as those he holds for Eddie. But she knew that from the beginning, and a smarter person never would have kissed him in the first place. Maybe a month from now Richie will be repulsed by her. Maybe they’ll realize sooner rather than later that this was all a mistake. But in the moment, Richie is bathing her with an intimacy she hasn’t felt in over a decade, so she’s going to appreciate this mistake for all it’s worth.

“Turn around,” Richie says, and she obliges. She closes her eyes as he washes her back, slowly moving down the length of her spine. She hears him drop to his knees as he runs it over the curve of her ass then down the backs of her thighs and calves. Then he coaxes her to turn back around, and she has to touch the wall for balance as he gently lifts each of her feet to clean her soles. He’s so good to her. Better than anything she’s ever had.

Then he places the soap on the edge of the tub and begins running a finger up her inner thigh, disrupting the rivlets of water flowing down her skin.

“Here?” he asks while resting his finger maybe an inch from her crotch.

“Yeah,” she breathes, starting to feel lightheaded from the steam.

Richie’s middle finger slips between her, then inside her, gliding in so effortlessly she can barely feel his knuckles. He presses the pad of his finger against her front wall and pulls it down, moving from the soft interior to her opening then back up again. She sighs and brings a hand up to her nipple while the water pelts against her back.

“You like Eddie?” he asks while his finger keeps moving. He’s looking up at her, but she knows her face is too far away for him to properly read her expression.

She’s not sure how to answer that. Of course she likes Eddie, loves him even, but she’s guessing Richie is referring to more than just the platonic sense.

“Yeah, I like him,” she replies, starting to get dizzy. She reaches behind her to turn off the water, but almost sinks to the floor anyway when Richie curls his finger just the right way.

“I’m glad,” he says, then without warning withdraws his finger and pushes himself back up. He leans down to give her a short kiss before pulling back the shower curtain, letting in a cool gust of air. She shivers as he steps out and hands her a towel, which she quickly wraps around her chest.

“You have a lot of freckles on your back,” he remarks while wrapping his own towel around his waist. “I never got to see them before.”

Bev smiles. “I’d have freckles all over if I didn’t wear sunscreen everyday.”

“They looked good on you as a kid.”

“Yeah, that was before I learned red heads are more prone to skin cancer. All those quarry swims are going to catch up with me.” She looks at herself in the mirror. Her hair is lying flat against the top of her shoulders and almost looks brown when it’s wet. She pulls out a makeup wipe and runs it across her face, washing away the streaks of foundation and dark smudges under her eyes. The wrinkles around her mouth have refused to budge no matter how much moisturizer she applies. The glow in her cheeks that she kept through her thirties has been steadily fading. She pulls out another wipe and runs it over her skin until it comes away clean, then she takes a moment to look at her naked face and all its flaws.

Richie steps up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his chin on the top of her head. “So you won’t walk from here to the subway without sunscreen, but cigarettes are fair game?”

She smiles and leans back against him. “There’s this neat little trick called cognitive dissonance.”

Richie presses a kiss to the crown of her head. They look so domestic in the mirror, like a magazine couple modeling a new line of towels. Suddenly she’s hit with a fantasy of someone bending her over the sink and fucking her from behind, either Richie or Eddie; she’s not picky. Just then there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey!” Eddie calls. “Bev, can we use your room? Richie spilled beer on his sheets the other night and still hasn’t cleaned it up.”

“Thanks for ratting me out,” Richie calls back.

“Yeah, my room’s fine,” Bev replies while tangling her fingers with Richie’s. She actually went to the trouble of tidying up last night for this exact reason.

“Cool, see you there,” Eddie calls back, and that’s when it settles in for Bev that this is actually happening. Again, a smarter person would definitely make a bare minimum effort to avoid having sex with her two best friends, but this is the best she’s felt in a long time, so like any idiot she’s going to chase the high as long as it lasts.

“Hey,” Richie whispers in her ear, “when we go in, I’ll tug off his shirt and you get his pants. I’ll go for the neck and you cover his dick.”

“Roger.”

With that, Richie pulls open the door and ushers her out. Eddie left her bedroom door slightly ajar, and when she peaks inside she can see him sitting in the center of the bed with his legs crossed and his phone in his hand. The open bottle of wine and their used glasses are sitting on the bedside table next to her hairbrush and pens. Bev quickly pushes the door open, drops her towel, and jumps onto the bed. Eddie flinches in surprise, but quickly acclimates when she reaches out to pull at the knot in his sweatpants.

“Jesus, give a guy a warning,” he says while raising his hips to help her tug them down his legs.

“Should we spank her as punishment?” Richie asks before dropping his own towel and climbing onto the mattress.

“I’d be into that,” Bev replies right before exposing Eddie’s dick and taking it in hand.

“See, she’d be into that,” Richie repeats while tugging at the hem of Eddie’s shirt. He raises his arms in compliance and Richie tugs it off so fast Bev’s surprised it doesn’t give him rug burn. Then he buries his head in Eddie’s neck and tugs at his hair, the combination making Eddie’s mouth fall open.

Bev bends down and brings his cock to her lips, eager to get things moving. She runs her tongue up his shaft and revels in how quickly he grows in her hand. She teases him, runs her tongue around his crown, kisses the head, determined to get him fully hard before giving him the luxury of fucking her mouth. She can hear Richie sucking at his neck, probably leaving bruises that will fade to yellow by the time Eddie has to go into work on Monday.

“What are you into, Eds?” she asks coyly while running her thumb up and down the base of his shaft.

“Tie me up and rub ice on my balls for all I care, just never put your clothes back on.”

Richie laughs against his neck then runs a hand over Eddie’s near-hairless chest, tracing the lines of his muscles.

“How do we feel about condoms?” Bev asks, temporarily pausing her treatment.

Richie pulls away from the crook of Eddie’s neck, the question apparently serious enough to merit a break. He and Eddie share a look, then Eddie turns back down to her, and she can’t help but smile at how the angle gives him a double chin.

“We stopped using them a couple weeks back, so it’s your call,” Eddie answers.

Bev looks up at him with surprise. She had a feeling Richie would be pretty lenient, but assumed Eddie would make no exceptions on that front, and she’s honored that he trusts her enough to relinquish that safety net. The truth is she hates condoms and always has, but her past boyfriends cheated on her with such consistency that she learned to never take their assurances at face value. But she knows she doesn’t have to worry here, and she really, really wants at least one of them to come inside her.

“I’m fine without,” she replies, her hand still comically gripping Eddie’s dick. “I’d prefer it, actually.”

“Guess we have a consensus then,” Richie says with a tone of mutual interest. Then he grips the back of Eddie’s head and pulls him in for a kiss so hot that no amount of modesty in the world could compel Bev to look away. She’s caught between dual urges to touch herself and continue playing with Eddie, but then she remembers she has two hands for a reason.

She continues stroking Eddie while reaching a hand between her legs. She’s so wet she could probably take them both at the same time with a bit of effort, and the mental image of that alone is enough to make her rub her clit with hormonal urgency.

She watches as Eddie reaches down to lazily palm at Richie’s dick. There are so many fantasies running through Bev’s mind she can’t decide which she wants first.

“Eds, can I ride you?” she asks, desperate to have something inside her.

Eddie pulls away from Richie’s mouth to nod. She can tell he’s trying to keep his eyes open, but is so blissed out they keep falling shut involuntarily. She quickly sits up and shifts forward to straddle his thighs. It’s been a while since she’s done this, and it takes her a moment to find the right position that won’t make her legs fall asleep in thirty seconds. Once she’s settled, she places one hand on his shoulder and uses the other to guide his dick inside her.

“Christ,” Eddie groans, his eyes pinching shut. Bev is only halfway to the base when Eddie gives her a slap on the ass, making her falter and sink all the way down.

“God,” she groans as the sense of fullness hits her all at once. She shifts her pelvis to get a feel for the angle, then she begins moving, pressing up on her thighs and rolling her hips. She has no idea how she’s going to make this last. It feels so good and her pace picks up rapidly, her tits bouncing with the snap of her body. She leans closer till her breasts are pressed against Eddie’s chest and she can rest her chin on his shoulder. Normally it takes ages to work her up this much. They skipped the foreplay altogether, yet it already feels like they’re creeping up on the closing act. Eddie slaps her ass again, then grips it hard, his fingers digging in and pulling her forward. She feels Richie’s hand resting flat against her upper back, right between her shoulder blades, a warm patch moving with the arch of her spine. It’s so comforting and solid. His hands are so large he could probably wrap one around the full circumference of her ankle. He could cradle both her breasts and have plenty of room to spare. His hands are almost certainly at least the length of her feet, and she imagines him grabbing them and bending her legs up against her chest.

Then she feels a sharp tingle between her legs, then another, and suddenly realizes that she’s coming, and coming hard. “Shit,” she curses as she forced to bring her hips to a standstill to avoid getting overwhelmed by the shockwaves that shoot down to her toes in heavy coils. She groans into Eddie’s shoulder as her head pulses with the endorphins. Her muscles twitch, contract, then finally settle as the soft euphoria settles through her.

Once it fully tapers off, she feels the inklings of embarrassment begin to creep in. She shifts a bit, hoping to feel the evidence that Eddie came as well, but she already knows he didn’t.

“I’m flattered,” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin. “I could’ve used an ego boost like that back in college.”

Bev gives him a small slap of annoyance on his upper arm while taking a deep breath to quell some of the vertigo.

“Guys, I have a proposition,” she says in her best professional tone.

“Shoot,” Richie replies, his hand slowly caressing up and down her back.

She clears her throat and shakes the hair out of her eyes. “We get you both off, order dinner, then come back for another round. Thoughts?”

“Works for me,” Eddie says with a shrug, his voice normal, as if he wasn’t still hard inside her.

“Yeah, I’m down,” Richie replies before pressing a kiss to her sweaty shoulder. “You always need a warm up round.”

Bev raises her hand under Richie’s chin to kiss his cheek and coax his mouth up to her own. Richie playfully bites at her upper lip, giving it a little tug that makes Eddie shift under her. She smiles, remembering what Richie said about Eddie really wanting to watch them fuck. As she presses her tongue into Richie’s mouth Eddie lets out a soft moan and raises his hips, obviously desperate for some friction, but she refuses to give it. Instead she locks her thighs and won’t budge, leaving Eddie with maybe only an inch of wiggle room as he tries to thrust inside her. Richie clearly catches on and decides to mess with him further by reaching out to pinch Bev’s nipple and twirl it between his fingers. Bev lets out an exaggerated moan as she reaches down to grip Richie’s cock and give it a few strokes, all the while kissing him like they’re performing for a camera.

“Jesus, I hate you guys,” Eddie groans while trying to rotate his hips enough to get some relief. Finally Bev takes pity on him. She lets go of Richie’s dick and pushes herself off Eddie, who looks at her with a disappointed pout before she scoots back and bends over, her mouth only a few inches from his wet dick.

“Richie, get behind me,” she whispers before lightly blowing against Eddie’s cock, watching it jump in response.

Richie doesn’t reply, but he does give her a playful slap on the ass. Her skin is so fair it will probably leave a red mark that will take a minute or two to fade. She knows that even a light scratch down her stomach is enough to leave a lightly enflamed trail, and she wonders how interested they would be in playing around with that.

“Having fun?” Eddie asks through his teeth as she tactfully keeps her mouth an inch or so from where he wants it.

“Tons,” she replies before finally throwing him a bone. She wraps her lips around his head and goes down as far as she can. He’s smaller than Richie so she can fit more of him in her mouth. She runs her tongue up the underside, enjoying the taste of her own come. That’s when she feels Richie’s hands grip her hips. She bobs her head faster, using her hand to squeeze and circle the base. The tip of Richie’s cock is rubbing against her opening, and she wishes more than anything that she could see the looks he and Eddie are sharing. Richie’s clearly making a show of it as he slowly presses inside her, and Bev lets out her best pornographic moan around Eddie’s dick as she feels Richie stretch her open.

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs.

“Enjoying the view, Eds?” Richie asks while beginning to rock his hips. Bev pushes back against him as much as she can without letting Eddie’s dick fall from her mouth. She arches her back as far as she can and spreads her legs wider. It’s difficult to focus with Richie inside her, but she does her best to keep her attention on Eddie. With her free hand she rubs his balls and presses the head of his cock against the inner lining of her cheek.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Eddie gasps. “I’m coming,” he repeats, and a second later Bev feels his come hit her tongue. She coughs reflexively when some of it hits the back of her throat, but doesn’t come up for air until Eddie is finished, which admittedly takes a while. She was planning to swallow all of it, but instead she lets some of it dribble down her chin, and the look Eddie gives her makes her feel sexier than she’s felt in a long time.

“Christ, that’s hot,” Eddie breathes while reaching down to rub some of it off with his thumb, and Bev gives him the best innocent doe eyes she can muster without laughing.

“You should at least buy a lady dinner first,” Richie says while still rocking into her, albeit with a bit less theatricality.

“I’ll pay for the take out. You want a finger up your ass?” Eddie asks, his tone straight out of a comedy bit, and Bev can’t help but laugh as she wipes the rest of his come off her chin with the sheet.

“Just a finger?” Richie asks. “Are we rationing?”

“I just came, dickwad.” Eddie scoots away from Bev to move closer to Richie, and the mattress shifts a bit with his weight.

“Richie, wait, let me turn around,” Bev says. If Eddie’s going to slip him a finger or two she definitely wants to be in a position where she can watch his face.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Richie pulls out and she wastes no time flopping onto her back, which feels really nice after being folded in half. She stretches out a bit, pops a joint in her lower back, then raises her legs and lets Richie push back inside her. To her delight he grabs one of her ankles and brings it up to his shoulder while stretching her other leg to the side. He starts thrusting again and the novelty of the angle restimulates her beautifully. She can also hear it better from this position: the wet sounds of Richie fucking her open.

“Are you close?” Bev asks. “No rush, of course.” She doesn’t want to sound like she’s getting impatient. Her main concern is getting worked up and not being able to come again before Richie finishes.

“Yeah, I’m getting there,” Richie replies while bending her leg a bit to get as deep as he can. She likes it when he twists her around like this, even if it will leave her sore in the morning.

“Let me help you out,” Eddie says from behind him before sticking his forefinger in his mouth. “I’m getting hungry.”

Bev can’t see what’s going on back there, but it’s easy enough to pinpoint the moment when Eddie slips him a finger. Richie’s eyes pinch shut. His pace doesn’t falter, but his face does shift through several highly entertaining expressions.

“Fuck,” he curses. The slant of his hips shifts as he clearly tries to find the best angle to suit both sides. Bev cranes her neck, but of course she can’t see anything beyond where Richie is thrusting inside her. But she can picture it well enough in her mind’s eye, and maybe later she can get a front seat showing.

“You like that?” Eddie says against his ear in a tone Bev can’t describe as anything except for dominant. “You like being finger-fucked while cock-deep in pussy?”

Bev reaches a hand down with the intent of rubbing at her clit, but instead she rests her fingers over Richie’s cock so they slide along as he fucks her.

“Do you want me inside there with you? You want to feel my cock pressed against yours while we stretch out her cunt? Bev, can I say cunt?”

Bev laughs. “Does this look like a feminist studies class? Call it whatever you want.” She begins rubbing her clit and brings her free hand up to massage her breasts. Richie looks close; a couple beads of sweat from his forehead drip onto her torso.

“In that case, would it be cool if I fucked your cunt while Richie is in your ass? Or vice versa.”

“Christ, yes,” she moans. She’s never had that before, and the thought of feeling both of them inside her, their cocks rubbing against each other through her walls, her narrow pelvis stretching to accommodate them both, it’s enough to send a shudder down to her toes.

“Bev,” Richie pants, “can I come in you?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she replies, her vision starting to spin the closer she gets. He’s so fucking deep. Her back is soaked in sweat and it’s pooling around the fringes of her body. Her leg that’s still propped against Richie’s shoulder is starting to tingle with pins and needles, and she knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch once the blood flow returns. But she’s so lost in it that even the most unpleasant stimuli are feeding into the same channel as pleasure. The wet sounds hitting her ears seem too loud to be real. The nerves in her pelvis are starting to burn the way her thighs flare with heat during an intense run. She knows she’s going to come hard, and it won’t be the last time for the night, and she wants nothing more than to be twisted inside out till she can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” Richie grunts, right as she feels him harden to an absurd degree. Then there’s a fluttering pulse, and she feels his come spreading inside her, the heat running down her walls. She speeds up the rotations on her clit until she gets there as well and chokes on her own moans.

“Christ,” Richie groans as she tightens around him, preventing him from withdrawing. She writhes without coordination as it passes through her. Finally he’s able to pull out, and she can feel his come dripping out of her. Richie releases his grip on her leg and lets it fall back down to the bed, then he rolls over to collapse beside her, his weight making the mattress bounce.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he sighs while running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “You guys should tag team for a living.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Bev replies. She presses her thighs together in a pointless attempt to prevent more come from dripping onto the sheets. She’s still too wrecked to even think about going to the trouble of cleaning herself up.

“What about you, Eds?” Richie asks. “Everything you hoped for?”

Eddie shuffles to the side of the bed to grab a tissue to wipe off his finger. “Yeah, I’d say I got my money’s worth. Guess I should buy you whores dinner now.”

“What should we get?” Bev asks, but it’s difficult to get her mouth around the words. There are patches of her face that feel vaguely numb.

“Indian?” Richie suggests.

“What?” Eddie spits back. “You want to blow your ass out before round two?”

“Eds, your stomach lining is thinner than paper. Most of us can handle a bit of chilli powder without ruining the orgy.”

“What about pizza?” Bev suggests noncommittally. At this point she’s so content they could feed her spoiled grape juice and tell her it’s wine.

“Nah, Eddie can’t have gluten or dairy, and ordering gluten-free pizza in New York is just too depressing.”

“How about Vietnamese? I just can’t have anything with peanuts or soy.”

Richie sighs. “Why don’t we just go down to the bodega and get you a bottle of Ensure and some canned pears?”

After some fervent deliberation they settle on Greek. Eddie orders it on his phone, and then they lie there arguing about who’s going to put on clothes to greet the delivery person. Richie finally acquiesces. He begrudgingly slips on a pair of sweats and goes to wait in the living room. Bev is starting to get itchy between her legs, so she rolls out of bed without even bothering to grab a pair of panties and goes to the bathroom to clean up. When she gets out Richie is smoking by the open window, and the scent is even more appealing than the borderline absurd amount of baklava they just ordered.

“Care to share?” she asks.

Richie skims her naked body up and down. “The neighbors might see you,” he says while offering it to her.

She laughs. It’s an obvious joke since this particular window is directly opposite a plain brick wall.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get anyone talking.” She takes the cigarette, inhales, then blows out the crack. The fumes fill her lungs with a bittersweet burn.

“How you reckon we’re going to explain this to the others?” Richie asks.

“Explain what? That we had a threesome? I don’t think they’ll care.” She taps the ash out the opening and takes another drag.

Richie is silent. He stares out the glass, even though the bricks sitting three feet away are hardly the most engaging sight. Bev swirls the smoke around in her mouth before exhaling. She can tell from Richie’s silence that they’re on the same wavelength. Eventually they’ll have to acknowledge that this is already a lot more complicated than a no-strings threeway.

Just then the buzzer rings, and Bev quickly hands the cigarette back over. “I’m going to put some sweats on,” she says, feeling the impulse to tug shut a robe she isn’t wearing.

“Yeah, good idea. Haul Eddie’s ass out too.”

Eddie is half-asleep when she gets back to her bedroom, and she has to manhandle him out of bed like a stubborn child while he whines throughout the entire process. Eventually she gets him in a pair of sweatpants and they emerge into the living room where Richie has laid out their meals and opened the second bottle of wine. They argue about what they want to watch while eating, and end up scrolling through all the Netflix comedy specials only to get distracted by Richie dishing out first, second, and third-hand gossip for each and every performer. Bev pulls some beer out of the fridge and Richie brings out a fancy bottle of whiskey he got from a late show gift basket, and by the time their plates are empty they’re laughing against each other like hyperactive kids at a sleepover.

They were planning to head back to the bedroom afterwards, but that plan devolves once Bev starts casually rubbing Eddie’s dick through his sweats while Richie goes on an extended tangent about some comedian Bev’s never heard of who subtweeted him over a Kamala Harris joke. They slowly begin peeling off each other’s clothes, taking it one piece at a time. They lay a blanket on the carpet to avoid rug burn, then roll around to their hearts’ content. They allow their fingers to wander, circling random moles, giving light scratches, and to Bev’s pleasure Eddie ends up transfixed by how he can make her torso turn red with little more than a pinch.

At one point Eddie slips inside her, then a minute later Richie takes his place, then he pulls out and they enjoy the foreplay for a while longer, hazy with the alcohol and practically vibrating with happiness. After Bev slings a leg over Eddie’s hip and mounts him Richie disappears for a minute to get some lube, and when he gets back, Bev slowly works her hips while Richie stretches him open. She rubs Eddie’s chest as Richie presses inside him, and she loves watching the initial discomfort fade into open-mouthed euphoria.

“Wait, let me turn around,” she says. With some slightly sloppy coordination she gets off Eddie’s dick and maneuvers so she’s facing Richie instead.

“Great, now I feel like a third wheel,” Eddie complains.

“Hey, when you’re getting serviced from both sides you lose your eye contact privileges,” Richie replies as he bends Eddie’s leg up so he can thrust in deeper.

“Yeah, besides, aren’t you enjoying the view?” Bev asks before placing her hands on Richie’s shoulders and kissing him deep. Eddie reaches out to grab her hips, and she can picture his eyes flashing between their locked mouths and the sight of her ass bouncing on his cock.

Bev eventually takes a break from kissing to look down at where Richie’s dick is disappearing inside Eddie, and she does her best to match his thrusts, almost like a rhythm game, the end goal making Eddie as nonsensical as possible. She likes this too, she realizes. She likes working with another person to give someone pleasure; how it feels a bit less lonely and intimidating. She also likes the power rush of getting two people off at the same time. And she loves how it feels when Eddie can’t bear it any longer and comes inside her.

In the aftermath they all collectively zone out. They lie together under the ceiling fan, their limbs too heavy to so much as lift a remote. Richie is running a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, then turns to his left to comb it through her hair. She knows she’ll hate herself in the morning for refusing to clean herself up, but Eddie is in the exact same position, so maybe they can mutually complain about it when they shower together tomorrow.

All three eventually fall asleep with Richie in the middle, which was strategic since his body is practically its own furnace. When Bev next opens her eyes there’s daylight falling on the carpet and her temples are sore with a light hangover. She turns her head, only to see Richie lying on top of Eddie. He’s moving inside him and they’re pressed so tight there’s barely an inch of negative space. Bev stays as still as she can and watches them through squinted eyes. She feels a bit voyeuristic, but knows they wouldn’t mind her watching. If they truly cared they would have gone into the bedroom. So she silently observes as their gentle and repetitive movements lull her back to sleep like a rocking ship. It’s such a beautiful morning.


End file.
